


if the stars were mine (i'd give them all to you)

by hiensou



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, Pining, Pining Haru, drink it all up, i feel like gagging but i also kind of like it, makoharu sap is a good kind of sap ya know, this somehow ended up so sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 19:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2877440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiensou/pseuds/hiensou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His choices were simple: turn time into dear, treasured memories, or <i>waste</i> time, agitated about how a memory was not eternal.<br/>“Makoto?” he breathed out quietly, realising that the moment he had waited for, the moment he had beaten himself up trying to create, was finally upon him.<br/>“Yeah?”<br/>Haruka was done trying to escape the future, he was done letting the uncertainty of it gnaw his insides raw. The past that Makoto and he shared was what had shaped this present, and this present was what would shape their future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if the stars were mine (i'd give them all to you)

**Author's Note:**

> _"If the world was mine  
>  I'd paint it gold and green  
> I'd make the oceans orange  
> For a brilliant color scheme_
> 
> _I would color all the mountains  
>  Make the sky forever blue  
> So the world would be a painting  
> And I'd live inside with you"_

Haruka was sure he didn't fall in love with his best friend in Tokyo, but Tokyo was where he realised.

He didn't know what did it. Perhaps the change from being a constant at each other's sides to only meeting in the evenings — or some days not at all — made it click. Because Haruka did not miss him the way he missed his other friends, nor the way he missed his parents when they first moved out, or his grandmother when she passed away. Missing Makoto was something else entirely. If the sensation alone didn't make things fall into place for Haruka, the gradual alteration of thoughts did. Because at first, he missed things like Makoto talking for him, Makoto matching the pace of his walk, Makoto putting on extra layers of clothes in case Haruka put on too few. That was all okay, but friends didn't think of other friends' hands in their own. Friends didn't think of the smell of their other friends' hair, the heat of their skin. They didn't spend hours meant for homework imagining what it would be like, asking their friend to move in with them, share a bed with them, take baths with them...

If Haruka would try to put a finger on the exact moment his feelings for Makoto burst into something larger, something more risky than friendship, he'd doubtlessly fail. Perhaps it was too easy rather than too hard, because if he really thought about it, it was impossible to have fallen in love with Makoto only _once_.

When he nearly lost Makoto to the sea, when they overlooked the buzz of the squid festival and Haruka allowed the emotions he had bottled up to gush out and Makoto responded with a beaming smile, when he raced Haruka for the first time in his life and threw his head back in defeat, smile so bitter sweet and hard to decipher, yet never having looked so beautiful to Haruka before. And each little instance Makoto did something that was just so... _Makoto_. Stopping to pet a kitten, giving in to the nagging of his younger siblings, pushing his glasses up as they played video games, leaning over in class to tell Haruka he should pay attention...

What separated Tokyo from Iwatobi was how, in their home town, with Makoto only a few footsteps away at all times, Haruka never even acknowledged the possibility of not having Makoto. He'd admit he took his best friend for granted when they were younger, always assuming he'd be there, that nothing would change. He knew now that with time, things did change, and people did as well. Sometimes the way you wanted, sometimes not. Sometimes you'd be prepared, other times not. When forced to re-evaluate what the boy meant to Haruka, what he'd actually _do_ if they were separated, he'd come to the realisation that rather than the indifference people believed he was made of, Haruka was brimmed with adoration for his best friend.

After many pros and cons, the obvious shone in his face like a neon sign in the dead of night, blinding him while simultaneously opening his eyes for the first time: he had to tell Makoto. He even talked to Rin about it. Or more so, _Rin_ talked to _him_ about it.

During a phone call from the redhead now making a living for himself in Australia, their conversation topic was somehow steered towards Haruka's dilemma. Rin expressed surprise at Haruka and the object of his affection not being an item as of yet.

“It was my first guess when I met you,” Rin had told him, “but then it turned out you were just friends. And later, when I came back from my first time in Australia, I was sure you'd have gotten your shit together by then but apparently, you guys _still_ weren't dating,” he rambled, voice accusatory, and Haruka felt irritated and entertained at the same time, “Ever since, I swear to God, I've been waiting for the moment you announce your wedding but it _just won't happen_. And now you're telling me, that all this time, you didn't even _know_?”

“Know what?”

“That you're in love with Makoto, moron.”

“Oh. Yeah. That's right.”

“Man, you guys are messing with my head. I'm so going to get grey hairs because of you,” Rin made a 'tsk' sound at the other end of the line, “But it's good that you're at least aware of it now. Although I'm pretty sure Makoto had his feelings all worked out since the beginning.”

“Don't be so sure that he feels the same, Rin,” Haruka muttered. Now _that_ was something he'd given himself many headaches pondering. Makoto was sweet to everyone, but Haruka had always been a little special. Still, it could simply be a brotherly type of love, and the possibility scared Haruka more than anything else. “Either way, I've... decided to tell him. Even if it's not reciprocated, he deserves to know.”

Rin was silent for a moment, chewing his bottom lip pensively.

“Rin?”

“Yeah, chill, I'm thinking.”

Haruka sat down on the couch in his apartment, having paced back and forth throughout all of their conversation so far. “I don't need you to think out a whole scenario for me.”

“What is it that you need, then?”

Haruka was silent for a while, fiddling with one of the strings dangling from his hoodie. He shrugged, knowing fully well that no one could see him. “I just don't know where to start. All I know is that it has to be special; Makoto deserves special.”

Rin came up with a lot of tips, most of which Haruka dismissed and criticised simply because the pessimism came naturally when it was Rin. In truth, he put a lot of the things Rin suggested to the back of his mind for possible later use, and thanked Rin for his help before they hung up. But as the days went on, Haruka still couldn't bring himself to make a move, constantly waiting for the right moment.

* * *

 “Mom and dad think it might come in handy, especially now that I'm living away from home and all,” Makoto explained, lying on his bed with his nose in a thick book about the safety regulations of driving. Haruka sat against the wall beside the bed, his legs swung over Makoto's.

“Do you really have time to study that, though? You have enough homework as it is,” Haruka mumbled, trying to be interested in the book about swimming techniques that his coach had given to him, and utterly failing.

“I don't know, but it won't hurt to try, I guess.” Makoto shrugged. They both knew that wasn't quite true, though. Haruka didn't have to voice his worry that Makoto would overwork himself for the latter to know it was a highly plausible outcome. “Aren't you going to apply for a driver's license, too? We're both old enough...”

“No,” Haruka shot the idea right down, “I don't see why I'd need it.” In Tokyo, you could get around by train or bus easily enough for him to deem a driver's license to be of utmost uselessness, and in Iwatobi, most places were close enough to walk. If Makoto wanted a license, however, Haruka wouldn't try to stop him.

Throughout the next couple of weeks, Makoto was mostly unavailable whenever Haruka suggested they meet up. Crammed with both school work and studying for his upcoming driving tests, Makoto was forced to decline and profusely apologise whenever Haruka made an offer. Haruka made sure never to stop his offers from coming, however, lest Makoto would feel as if he had done something wrong. Weird though the technique was, continuously suggesting they go out to do something was the best way to let Makoto focus on his studies.

Makoto still made sure to keep in touch, though. Or more so, keeping in touch was just as much part of his daily routine as brushing his teeth, eating dinner or going to the bathroom, so it wasn't much of a struggle, remembering to send a text or call the other every once in a while.

Meanwhile, Haruka nearly drove himself crazy trying to figure out when and how to tell Makoto how he was hopelessly in love with him, and probably had been for longer than either of them dared to imagine. During every little moment they shared together, it was as if the universe itself poked Haruka's shoulder and nagged at him to _just do it,_ but he continued to save it for another time, certain that “another time” would be “the perfect time.”

Makoto would text him every morning, and it had become a habit of Haruka's to reach for his phone and unlock it before his eyes had even adjusted to the light invading his room from outside. Every morning held a different little message though, but Haruka contemplated replying with some sort of love declaration to each and every one. And with each and every one, he also backed out in the last second and sent something that was starkly uninteresting in contrast to that _other_ option of his.

_“good morning haru! hope you have a nice day :)”_

_~~“Good morning. I'm in love with you.”~~ … _ _“Good morning. You too, Makoto.”_

_“rise and shine, don't soak in the bath for too long!”_

_~~“Why don't you come over and soak in it with me?”~~ …_ _“I won't.”_

_“morning! hey, do you still have my orange and yellow t-shirt?”_

_~~“Yes. If you want it back you'll have to take it off of me yourself.”~~ …  "No I haven't seen it.”_

_“don't forget your book today, haru ^^ remember you told me today was the last day to return it!”_

_~~“Thanks. By the way, I'm hopelessly in love with you and I probably have been for longer than any of us would dare to imagine.”~~ …_ _“Oh, thank you. Have a nice day, Makoto.”_

But when it all came down to it, Haruka didn't actually want to tell him through a text.

When they decided to meet up for dinner for the first time after a long period of not having seen each other what so ever, Haruka felt certain that it was fate who had finally created a gap in his best friend's schedule, as a chance for Haruka to finally go through with... _it_. They usually went to a ramen shop that was conveniently right in between their schools, a ten minute walk for both parts. Today was no exception, and when Haruka entered the by now well-known little restaurant, Makoto was already seated to the far left of the room — their regular spot — chatting idly with one of the chefs over the counter. At the jingle of the little doorbell that signalled Haruka's arrival, Makoto turned his head and the soft, polite smile he'd had on earlier quickly flourished into a wider, much more genuine one. Haruka walked up to him and sat down, flopping his bag of swimming equipment on the floor beside his chair.

They ordered their respective meals and Haruka listened as Makoto guiltily complained about how they hadn't seen each other in so long, before going on about his day, how hard college was compared to high school, and asking questions about Haruka's own life every now and then. Haruka answered with few syllables, spending his time tapping restless fingers against the wooden surface before them and pondering how to get to the topic that had been at the tip of his tongue for several months now. Makoto seemed to notice that something was off, since his cheerful monologue faded away into nothingness with each second, and by the time they got their food, not a word was being said between them.

Makoto brought a pinch of noodles to his lips and blew on them carefully before attempting a bite, promptly grimacing at the heat of his meal. “Ow! Hot...” he muttered to himself, sitting back and taking a long sip of his water. Haruka swirled his chopsticks around in the bowl a bit, hoping to chase some of the steam away as so not to make Makoto's mistake.

“Is something wrong, Haru?” the brunet asked eventually, “You seem a bit... aloof.”

Haruka blinked up at him before quickly turning his head again. _This is it,_ he thought to himself, heart immediately beginning to hammer an irregular rhythm against the walls of his chest, _this is where you tell him what's been on your mind lately..._

“It's nothing,” he said instinctively, “it's just that I... I'm, um...”

Makoto looked at him with concern in his eyes, leaning in a bit to make their conversation a bit more private. Haruka could feel the dusty red spread across his cheeks and his ears like wildfire, and swallowed dryly. Furrowing his eyebrows, he picked up his glass and gulped down about half of it in one swift go, before looking around the room.

To the far right, there were two girls about their age, completely invested in their own conversation, which Haruka could not overhear the subject of. A few seats closer to him and Makoto, there was an elderly man with thin, snow-white hair and eyes that naturally squinted so much you couldn't even see what colour they were. Opposite himself, Haruka saw two chefs busy with work, every now and then offering comments or questions to each other. Haruka knew that if he were to tell Makoto right now, the chance of somebody else hearing was very slim. No one was paying attention to them. Yet, he suddenly felt all too self-conscious to do it in public, and sighed with the decision to push this little revelation of his further down the road.

He offered Makoto a contrived smile. “I'm just tired from swimming, is all. How are your driving lessons coming along?”

* * *

Haruka couldn't be more uninterested in whether or not the protagonist's girlfriend was possessed by a demon. This kind of movie had been done a thousand times before, and each time a new one came out, he ended up watching it with Makoto despite the latter's severe fright of ghosts and poltergeists. What Haruka _was_ interested in, however, was whether or not tonight was the night to tell his best friend he had feelings for him.

They sat beside each other in Haruka's living room couch, a dark-blue one, narrow enough to not fit more than two or three people — given you squeeze together — but which could also be turned into a bed, efficiently enough. Haruka had never had to use it as a bed, however, as the only guest who ever came over to his apartment in Tokyo was Makoto, who usually went home when it got late (since his apartment was only a few minutes away by train) or ended up sharing a bed with Haruka. He supposed that, what with him having romantic feelings for Makoto and all, he was expected to be somewhat more affected by sharing a bed with the guy, but it was something they had done since their very first sleepover as kids. Back then, Makoto would be too afraid to sleep alone in any house that was not his own. And even as he got over this juvenile cowardice, simultaneously warming up to Haruka's house, the habit stuck, and eventually, they didn't even bother to set up a futon whenever they spent the night. Now, the scene was way too familiar to be anything but innocent to Haruka.

Makoto's shoulders were pulled up high and his arms were hugging a cushion close to his chest, legs drawn up in front of him. He trembled from fear, curling in on himself where he sat, as if he would be safer if he were smaller. Haruka was torn between wishing that cushion was him, trapped in Makoto's strong embrace, or grateful that it _wasn't_ , else his eyes might be popping out of his head right about now.

Witnessing his best friend flinch at the most insignificant things unfolding on screen, and let out tiny whimpers of fright with the occasional “oh God, oh God, _oh God, don't go in there!_ ” was both unsettling and amusing. Haruka quickly deducted, however, that this was not the ambiance he wished to drop his love-bomb on Makoto in. Although it _would_ be fun to see the struggle on his face as his fear of the ghost in the film and whatever reaction he'd have to Haruka's declaration contradicted each other within him. But Haruka wasn't a sadist, so he opted for subtly leaning towards his friend and resting his head on Makoto's shoulder, not a single word escaping his lips.

Even if he couldn't tell him yet, he could enjoy his presence and contact as far as platonic friendships allowed. The quakes of Makoto's tall body ceased almost immediately, and the whines of unease died on his tongue, replaced by a single gulp. Makoto turned to look down at his friend, only to get Haruka's hair right in his face. Haruka could hear him splutter a bit and laughed quietly to himself, but stopped abruptly, unsure if it was his imagination playing tricks on him or if Makoto actually took that deep breath to smell Haruka's hair, just now.

He never found out, because even if he'd had the guts to ask, Makoto's attention was soon snatched by the horrifying climax of the movie, and the scent of Haruka's new shampoo was simply not relevant any more.

* * *

 Shopping clothes had never been a big hobby of either of them, but it was something that had to be done, sometimes.

It was a Saturday, and despite Makoto having said he really needed to spend any free hours he had to study for his quickly approaching driving tests, there he was, trying on new swimming trunks as Haruka waited outside the changing room. The latter had already picked out a pair he wanted to buy. In fact, it had taken him five minutes _tops_ to make that decision, and Makoto wasn't in the least astonished. They had been in there for about twenty-five minutes, and once Makoto decided which ones he wanted, they also had shirts for Makoto and shoes for Haruka to look for.

Makoto hadn't thought it necessary for himself to buy a new pair of leg skins since he wasn't part of a swim club any more, but Haruka had insisted that that did not mean Makoto would never swim again, and in order to swim at his top potential, he couldn't use the same pair he'd had in high school, since they were getting worn-out. One leg already had a small hole in it. To Haruka, this was preposterous.

Makoto ended up choosing a similar pair to the ones he already had, although the green of the stripes were a somewhat different shade, and the legs weren't as long. Next, they went to a store right next to the sports equipment one, where men's everyday clothing could be found.

“What do you need?” Haruka asked as they entered the hall filled with everything from underwear and pyjamas pants to dress shoes and bow ties. A store clerk greeted them and Makoto replied with a smile and a nod of his head, before turning back to his friend.

“I need shirts. Any kind, really. Button-ups, t-shirts, long-sleeves,” he shrugged, pointing to where he could spot a clothing rack with what looked like plaid flannel shirts in different colours, “Something  for school. Most of what I have is getting too small.”

“I didn't think you could get any bigger,” Haruka teased, instantly met with a “ _hey!_ ” from Makoto. He then realised how wrongly his comment could have been interpreted, and did his best not to let the flush of his face show.

He helped Makoto pick a few shirts out — a red flannel button-up, a forest green cotton shirt with long sleeves and buttons at the collar, a simple white t-shirt with a thick, orange line across the chest and upper arms; and lastly, a blue-and-white striped shirt with ¾ sleeves. Haruka sat down on a little bench outside the changing rooms, spending his quiet alone time the same way he always did nowadays: imagining what it would eventually be like, admitting to Makoto the dilemma he had carried on his shoulders as of late. A quick shopping tour for clothes wasn't the ideal setting, he guessed, but he had gone long enough to think _anything_ seemed decent enough. So far, he had been continuously interrupted by either his common sense or his fear of the possible consequences though, but perhaps today would be the day this changed.

Haruka breathed in deeply and sunk a bit farther down in his seat, mentally preparing himself and trying to choose what words to use. It turned out a futile waste of time in the end, however, as Makoto stepped out to ask Haruka for his opinion on the shirts, and Haruka found himself with his words stuck in his throat and the knowledge that “good-looking” was a tremendous understatement to Tachibana Makoto in glasses, an open red flannel shirt, and a black tank top underneath.

* * *

 “Ah, it's getting late; I should be heading home.”

“...Okay.”

Makoto rose from his seat at Haruka's kitchen table, collecting his books and shoving them into his backpack. Haruka had missed their study nights, which, back in Iwatobi, was almost synonymous to “every night.” It wasn't as easy any more, since they not only had different classes, but also had a significant inequality between their respective workloads. Tonight they had chosen to do their assignments together for a change, though, feeling more careless and closer to freedom the shorter the distance between them and a much anticipated summer vacation became. As was always the custom, for some reason, the feeling of completion and achievement spurring them on towards the end of each semester.

“This was nice,” Makoto mused, getting down on one knee to tie his shoe and smile up at Haruka, who followed him to the front door, “I wish we could do it more often.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, leaning against the wall, “me too.”

Makoto stood up, taking his jacket off the coat rack and zipping it all the way up despite the growing heat outside. Haruka handed him his backpack, glancing back at the table to make sure none of Makoto's things had been forgotten.

When he turned back towards his friend, the taller boy was smiling down at him, erecting goose bumps all the way from the small of Haruka's back, to the short hair strands in his neck. He shoved his hands in his pockets and cast his eyes downwards, the harassing “do it, come on, do it now, tell him, _do it_ ” of his own mind creeping up on him once more.

“Goodnight, Makoto,” he said in lieu of _I love you_ , uselessly hoping that his simple replacement of words and his coy, averted gaze would somehow convey that what he really wanted was a goodnight kiss.

A goodnight kiss, a good morning kiss; I love you's, tight embraces, intertwined fingers, shared baths, shared beds, move in with me's, electrifying caresses, breath-taking bites and nips in the dead of night, the dawn of day, the middle of town, at home in secrecy... You know, whatever.

Makoto leaned in and Haruka's head short-circuited, pulled the brakes on his heart. His blood ran cold.

But instead of planting his lips on the shorter male’s, the feather-light touch of Makoto's fingertips swept across Haruka's cheek, like a barely-there breath, and he couldn't help but lean into the cupping of Makoto's palm.

“You had a hair on your... cheek...” The brunet murmured, and Haruka couldn't bring himself to look at Makoto, so he closed his eyes instead. Then, the hand was gone, leaving no trace of ever having touched Haruka's face to begin with.

He listened to Makoto's footsteps as the boy made his way out the door. Haruka hung his head a little.

“Goodnight, Haruka.”

Half an hour later, as Haruka was lying on his bed, staring up at the grey-white ceiling of his bedroom, his phone buzzed. He stared for fifteen more seconds, counting each one and timing his breathing with them just to get some kind of distraction (half-assed or not) before picking his phone up. Unsurprisingly, it was from Makoto. He always texted Haruka to let him know he'd gotten home safely. He also always made sure Haruka did the same.

_“good night, haru. sweet dreams.”_

That night, Haruka sincerely expected his heart to spontaneously burst into a million tiny pieces within the confines of his chest, cutting him like glass from the inside.

* * *

By the end of the summer, Makoto had finally gotten his license. Haruka was genuinely proud of him, impressed that he had been able to juggle so many balls at the same time without dropping a single one of them. Haruka decided to get him a present in congratulations, and went out to buy it one afternoon when the sun was mostly shielded by a wall of clouds, creating a meek warmth and a soft glow that blanketed their little coastal town. Being back in Iwatobi felt nice, even if only for a few weeks. It was great to sleep in his old house, his real _home_ , having Makoto a few steps down the stairs and being able to meet with both Nagisa and Rei again, too. Haruka didn't want to pretend everything was back the way things were a year ago, because clinging to something he could not get back was absolutely pointless in the end, but the familiar surroundings of their past was still comforting.

After having bought what Haruka deemed a good enough gift for Makoto he headed back home for some dinner and a bath, making sure to feed his leftovers to the stray cats in the neighbourhood, who — fortunately enough — did not resent Haruka for his long absence like he had suspected they might. He petted the white one softly as it ate, sitting back to watch as two more cats made their way towards the plate of leftover fish. They sniffed curiously before deeming the food edible enough and joined the white cat, licking the plate clean once they were done. Haruka scratched their backs for a while, a subtle smile adorning his face as the cats purred happily from the attention. He then took the plate inside, put it in the sink, and sauntered into the bathroom to take his bath. As he sat beside the tub, watching the water level rising steadily, he received a phone call from Makoto.

“Hey,” he answered, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Haru, great news! You know Akamatsu-san? The old man who lives a few houses down to the left?”

“…I know _of_ him.”

“Well, my parents know him pretty well and apparently he said that once I’ve gotten my license, I could get his old car! Isn't that neat?” Makoto's ecstatic voice resounded from the receiver and Haruka nodded absent-mindedly.

“He doesn't need it anymore?”

“He said he's too old to drive, anyway...” Makoto replied, sounding a bit lost in thought, “Ah, well, my dad went to pick it up yesterday. You wanna come see it?”

“I was just about to take a bath,” Haruka scratched his chin, staring intently at the too-slow increase of water. “Can I come over later tonight?”

“Sure!” Makoto sounded thrilled. For what, Haruka didn't understand; it was only a car. The enthusiasm was endearing, though, and made him feel warm without even having stepped into the water yet.

A few hour later, Haruka knocked on the door of the Tachibana residence, and was soon met with the wide smile of his best friend, standing readily on the other side of the threshold. Before any greetings were exchanged, Makoto stepped aside and gestured for Haruka to enter.

“It's out the back. Come on, I'll show you,” Makoto coaxed enthusiastically, waving Haruka along as he hurried from the front door to the back of the house. A quiet, high-pitched noise of excitement escaped Makoto's throat as his fingers curled around the doorknob, and for a moment he simply stood there, leaning his body against the door and staring at Haruka as if he thought that doing this hard enough would make his high spirits rub off on the other.

He opened the door with a drawn-out, “Ta-da!” and swung an arm out like a curtain pulled away to reveal the proud actors of the stage. The worn-out pickup truck that took their place as the center of attention, however, was far from as extravagant, but Haruka still felt his eyebrows shoot up beneath his bangs.

“It's not much, I'm aware of that,” Makoto chuckled sheepishly and walked closer to Haruka, a careful hand at the small of his back ushering him towards the vehicle, “but it's a _car_ , you know? It's _my_ car! Isn't that cool?”

Haruka failed to hinder a small smile of endearment from forming on his features. Personally, he didn't see what was so remarkable about a _car_. A rusty old Toyota on top of that. But he decided he liked it, too, if only because it induced such a childlike, gleeful smile on Makoto's face.

Haruka thought it pretty much as simple as a car could get, though, not even an interesting colour or anything, but _white_ with a few scratches and bumps along the side, and some dirt on the tires. As if reading his mind, Makoto's ambiance changed like a light-switch, from jubilant to self-conscious.

“W-Well it still needs some adjustment, I suppose... Also, Ren and Ran thought it might be fun to paint it some other colour, so I'm thinking about maybe green or orange? Although maybe that's too predictable...”

“Makoto.” Haruka shut him up with a curt call of his name, and while his own sapphire orbs were still locked on the truck, he felt those of his friend focused right at him. “It's okay. I mean, I like it.”

A breathy laugh escaped the taller boy, “Really? You don't think it's shabby?”

 _Well_. “No. I mean, it's not a Porsche, or whatever, but it's a car,” he turned towards Makoto, allowing himself to smile sincerely. “It’s more of a car than anything of mine, I suppose.” _I'm proud of you, Makoto_ , hung in the air between them, _you've earned it_.

Makoto inhaled deeply, his smile growing so big the corners of his eyes crinkled a bit, “Thank you, Haru.”

Haruka lowered his eyes, smile still intact, and they stayed like that for a moment before Makoto cleared his throat and switched his weight between his legs uncomfortably. Then, he seemed to remember something, and with a small noise of realisation, he scurried back inside. Perplexed, Haruka blinked at the door through which his friend had escaped, and then back at the car. For an instant, he imagined sitting at the passenger's seat while Makoto drove them all the way to Tokyo. Through the window, he could see that instead of two separate seats, there was an old-fashioned couch-type seat in leather, a gaping hole torn open to the very left of it. There was a warm flutter in his chest as he imagined falling asleep on the way, scooting closer to the tall and secure frame of his friend sitting beside him, and laying his head on Makoto's shoulder for the rest of his slumber. If the roads were calm enough for Makoto to dare take a hand off the steering wheel, he might even drape an arm across Haruka's upper body to keep them close.

Suddenly, they weren't driving back to their respective homes in Tokyo any more, but on a tranquil trip, just for them. To a clearing at the edge of a forest, or an unpopulated beach... There wasn't much room inside the vehicle for anything else but themselves, so they could throw their packing up on the bed of the truck. A blanket or two could be brought with them to the front seats, though, for comfort. Perhaps a pillow. Makoto would take Haruka some place romantic — some place they would call their own from then on — and Haruka would kiss the corner of his lips, the base of his throat, and upon the leather of the back seat, Makoto would hold his waist firmly, whispering sweet nothings against the sweat of Haruka's bare skin, and Haruka would hook his legs around Makoto's back—

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Haru!”

Said boy whipped around, touching his cheek absently as the heat beneath it seemed to scorch right through his skin and burn it off. He swallowed thickly, feeling caught and guilty, but was scarce of time to dwell on his self-chiding for having such indecent thoughts about his best friend — and behind his back, nonetheless — when he realised that all he could see of this very friend were his legs. The rest was concealed behind a mountain of pillows and blankets, which, if Haruka didn't know better, might as well have been fused with Makoto's upper body rather than carried by it. Haruka had to shield his mouth with a palm to keep himself from outright laughing at the sight, and walked over to Makoto to take some of the load off him.

Makoto responded with a breathy “thanks” at the aid, inclining his head towards the car and scampering over to it to dump his findings on the bed of the truck. Haruka remained a few feet away, blinking owlishly at him before scrunching his nose up.

“Oh!” Makoto exclaimed, raising a finger in the air, “Don't worry, I washed the floor of the bed thoroughly! I planned this, you see. Put 'em here.” He waved Haruka over, and the boy complied although apprehensive. He dropped the cushions and covers on top of Makoto's and stood back, again directing his blue eyes to Makoto for further explanation.

The brunet simply winked at Haruka, unknowingly stifling his breath with the gesture, before getting a firm grip of the tailgate, placing a foot right below it and hauling himself up over it. Haruka watched as Makoto flopped down on his feet inside the bed of the truck and began rearranging the disorganised bedding. He walked up to the side of the car, resting his hands on the side of the trunk's bed which, fittingly enough, was starting to look more and more like an actual bed.

When he was finished, Makoto put his hands on his hips, sighing with a faint smile across his lips as he examined his work.

“Are you planning on sleeping out here from now on?” Haruka asked sarcastically, earning a soft chuckle from his friend.

“Nope, just for tonight,” Makoto replied and sat down to remove his shoes and drop them on the ground beside the truck. “Care to join me?”

Haruka's brows pinched together, “You're asking me to spend the night on the back of your muddy pickup truck?” he questioned, distaste clear in his voice even as he toed his shoes off and shrugged his bag to the ground.

“Oh, I'm sorry, is it not decent enough for Your Highness?” Makoto teased, eyebrows tilting upwards in faux concern. He patted the space beside him. “Come on, Haru. It's summer, the nights are warm.”

Haruka climbed up beside him and hit his arm lightly in revenge for the snappy comeback.

“Also, _hey!_ ” Makoto poked his side, “It's not _muddy_ , I told you I cleaned it already!”

Haruka breathed out a laugh and lay down, closing his eyes. It was already getting kind of dark out, and while Makoto was right in that the night was bound to be kind in temperature, there was an unmistakable chill lingering. Makoto lay down beside him and sighed in content, grabbing a blanket that he covered their bodies with gingerly.

“We can always go back inside if it _does_ get cold, though,” Makoto spoke softly, as if raising his voice even close to normal conversation level would break the night like a frail piece of glass beneath boiling water. “I just thought it'd be nice. Remember when we were little, how we used to drag your mattress all the way down the stairs and out the back of your house to sleep on whenever we were home alone?”

“Mm...”

Makoto hummed quietly. “I miss that.” he said, his voice light and cautious like a thin, extra blanket over Haruka's body and senses. He missed it too, sometimes. In fact, there were a lot of instances from their childhood that he missed, but he tended not to dwell on nostalgia. It was too bitter sweet, this odd way of _choosing_ to suffer. Makoto, on the other hand, was an emotional masochist.

“And how we used to go past your house, past the empty house at the top and into the woods...”

“...To play in the clearing by the lake. Yeah.” Haruka finished, memories fresh and vivid in his mind. Memories of playing football with a young, lanky Makoto; eating watermelon under the pressing heat of the sun on Haruka's front porch with Makoto; playing hide and seek with the twins and Makoto; getting invited for cookies and milk by kind, old Tamura-san with Makoto... Growing up with Makoto. Somehow, Haruka couldn't shake the feeling that torturing himself by yearning for all of it, chasing all those memories, would be nothing short of idiotic. He treasured their past together just as much as their present, as well as their guaranteed future together. But he could not have the past, not anymore, and he had to be patient for the future. “The present is all we have,” he found himself mumbling, and Makoto turned his head wordlessly to look at him, “so we should make sure not to let it go to waste. Or take it for granted. That's what makes a bad past. And, sometimes, a bad future.”

Haruka met Makoto's eyes.

“I don't mind reminiscing about the past,” he continued, voice lowered to a near-whisper, “but you shouldn't get too sad that it's not here anymore. We're making memories right now, too, you know.”

“I know,” Makoto replied knowingly yet guiltily at the same time, “I'm not... I'm not sad though, Haru, I just...”

“You _sound_ sad,” Haruka interrupted, “I don't want you to be sad. Not over something as stupid as that,” _not over anything,_ “it's not like anything between us has come to an end.”

Silence. The subtle _whoosh_ of the evening wind passed by them. Haruka wondered for a moment what would happen if Ren and Ran barged outside to find them in their little hideout and imagined they'd want to sleep in the truck as well, before remembering how Makoto mentioned his family we're all gone for the night. His father was at a business trip this weekend, which his mother had decided to come along on as well, and the twins were sleeping over at a friend's.

Makoto watched Haruka's face silently, chartreuse-green eyes speaking volumes of something Haruka could not pinpoint. The brunet's angular jaw hardened for a second, before his muscles slackened into an adoring smile. “You're so wise, Haru,” he mused eventually, and Haruka averted his eyes to the scenery above them, which he had yet to fully acknowledge.

The skies of Iwatobi wore a gradient cloak, dark rust at the base that bled into burgundy and dusky blue. The sun was setting at a slow pace, caressing the heavens on its diurnal descent, leaving brilliant colours on the evening sky and making way for the depth of blue to be inhabited by millions of stars, and the moon as the leading role. It was a breath-taking sight, and Haruka could not help but wish to live in this moment forever. He knew what sunset lead to though, which was night, and sunrise, and a new day. No matter how much he wished to freeze time and space for the sake of this picturesque, cloudless night, and this perfect sensation of him and Makoto being the only two people in the whole world, the cycle did not end. The clockwork did not pause. Not for Haruka; not for anyone.

Suddenly, he understood it a little better, his own reprimand against chasing nostalgia, and wasting today trying to guess tomorrow.

For a while, they relished in the tranquillity of nightfall without breaking the silence what so ever, and Haruka knew it was the best they could do. Were he to worry himself senseless and get all antsy over the knowledge that this moment wouldn't last forever, it'd have fleeted past him meaninglessly.

His choices were simple: turn time into dear, treasured memories, or _waste_ time agitated about how a memory was not eternal.

“Makoto?” he breathed out quietly, realising that the moment he had waited for, the moment he had beaten himself up trying to create, was finally upon him.

“Yeah?”

Haruka was done trying to escape the future, he was done letting the uncertainty of it gnaw his insides raw. The past that Makoto and he shared was what had shaped this present, and this present was what would shape their future.

With that in mind, Haruka's hand smoothed along the sheets beneath them until his fingers found the edge of Makoto's thumb, and with great caution, Haruka rested a few of his fingers on top of Makoto's. He could hear the breath hitch slightly in the other's throat, but since he showed no resistance, Haruka's hand grew bolder despite the roaring thunder inside his chest, and he laid his hand over his friend's gingerly. There was a questioning whisper of his name, but he ignored it, closed his eyes and squeezed Makoto's fingers a bit. Testing the waters. Makoto uttered his name again, as if demanding some sort of answer or explanation before he chose how to respond.

When Haruka gave none, Makoto slowly turned his hand around and intertwined their fingers.

Haruka marvelled at how perfectly their hands fitted together.

They watched the sky darken until it was all a canvas drenched in ink, and the star showed themselves, twinkling merrily at anyone watching. At some point, Makoto's thumb started caressing the back of Haruka's hand, and at another, they moved close enough for their arms to be pressed fully against each other.

Neither of them had any idea what time it was, but probably a little past midnight, when Makoto suddenly pointed to the sky.

“Look! There's one of the constellations Rei told us about last year,” he said, instinctively moving his face closer to Haruka's to get in his field of vision and point out the stars belonging to one and the same cluster. “I don't remember the name of it, though...” he admitted sheepishly. Haruka would offer a “me neither” if it weren't for the fact that Makoto's cheek almost in contact with his own rendered him momentarily tongue-tied. He mentally rolled his eyes at himself; personal space had never been a thing between the two of them anyway.

“And that's Sagittarius, I think,” he continued, “I can't really tell; that one had a lot of stars.”

Makoto settled back a little further from Haruka, biting his bottom lip absent-mindedly as he looked around for any other constellations he might remember. Suddenly, Haruka spoke up, surprising even himself.

“Makoto.”

His voice was low, and yet it startled Makoto to look at him with question in his eyes. Haruka took a deep breath, eyes still on the shimmering ceiling above them.

“I'm in love with you.”

…

……

For a second, Haruka was sure he had actually managed to pause time the way he had wanted to earlier that night. When there was no audible reaction on Makoto's part, Haruka turned his head, eyes meeting with a wide gaze already waiting. Haruka's heart thrummed against his ribcage, vibrations echoing throughout his skin and his blood, to the very tip of his toes, and his scalp, and his hands… He wondered briefly if Makoto could feel his pulse through their linked fingers. Haruka could not feel his, but saw in the way the other boy's lips curled into a gentle smile that, just like Haruka's own chest, Makoto's was threatening to burst at any moment.

“Haru...”

“And you?” he interrupted, heart now in his throat, “Without taking my feelings into consideration, which I know you do with pretty much everything else... what do you feel?”

Makoto's eyes flickered downwards for a moment. “What do I feel?” he repeated, his smile a little crooked. Haruka felt a squeeze to his hand, before Makoto brought it up to rest their intertwined fingers on his chest, cradling Haruka's hand with both his own. Makoto looked up at the sky, “About you, Haru, I feel... more than I ever thought I possibly _could_ feel about a person.”

Haruka pouted, channelling his nervousness into pretence exasperation. “Don't be vague in a situation like this.”

Makoto laughed and held his hand even tighter. “Okay. I'll be honest with you, Haru. I feel like, when I'm with you, I could lose foothold at any given time, and just soar away. It's frightening, but exhilarating. Do you know that feeling?”

Haruka swallowed. He _did_ know that feeling. He did know what it was like, feeling as if he could do _anything_ if Makoto was with him, and being scared of the possibilities, but absolutely enthralled by them all the same.

“You're the most important person to me, Haruka, and I wouldn't trade a second of our lives together for all the wealth in the world. I feel like you bring out the best in me; like I'm completely safe with you around.”

Haruka wasn't sure what to answer, so for a few moments, he remained silent.

Eventually, a whisper fell from his lips, “You love me...”

“I've always loved you, Haru,” Makoto finally turned back to look at him, “and I've been waiting for this moment since the day I realised that.”

The raven-haired boy clenched and unclenched his free hand lying by his side. “I'm... I'm sorry I kept you waiting. It took me... a while to realise,” Haruka felt his cheeks flare with colour, but left the barriers open for his words to spill into the night, “and then some more time, finding courage.”

Makoto put his lips in between his teeth, looking as if he might cry any second. Which — knowing Makoto — wasn't an improbability, Haruka mused internally. “I'm glad you eventually did,” the taller boy managed. “It was worth the wait though.”

The shorter boy sat up then, swallowing again as if that would force his nervousness back to the depths of him, rather than at the surface of his skin, tingling in a mixture of anticipation and caution. Makoto followed his lead, sitting up with Haruka's left hand still captured in between both of his own. He looked at the other with a childlike smile, scared and curious at the same time. Acting on impulse, Haruka raised his free hand to gently place it at Makoto's cheek, and the latter leaned into the touch. He found that his hands were shaking just slightly, and willed them to still.

Haruka slid his left hand from Makoto's hold to be able to cradle his face fully. The warmth of it showed through the quickly growing crimson of Makoto's cheeks, and Haruka couldn't help but smile fondly.

“Makoto,” he whispered, eyes flickering from the other's eyes to his lips and back, “close your eyes.”

Makoto blinked once, twice, before complying. His tongue appeared briefly to wet his lips, Haruka watching the movement intently. Then, he moved closer, placing a chaste kiss on Makoto's left eyelid, his right, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth...

“ _Haru_...” Makoto breathed out, a shiver rolling across his back. His fingers had grasped two handfuls of Haruka's shirt, trying to pull the boy closer without being forceful.

“I thought you said you didn't mind waiting,” he teased, words coming from low in his throat. “Move back a little...”

Makoto scooted farther towards the front of the car until his back was against the front wall of the truck bed. His eyes were still closed, for which Haruka was thankful; Makoto's attentive gaze would only make him timid.

He positioned himself over Makoto's lap, taking his face in his hands once more and Makoto let out a breath of laughter, opening his mouth to talk. Haruka never found out what he was going to say, however, as he collided the two of them at the lips, swallowing any words on Makoto's tongue.

Haruka's gut made a somersault and his skin prickled as Makoto's hands moved up his back and down again, before his arms locked securely around Haruka's waist. A soft, faint moan fell from Makoto's lips and Haruka drank it all up, happy that time hadn't stopped after all, or else they wouldn't have come to this.

He tipped his head slightly to the side, giving them better access to each other's mouths. It felt a little bumpy and messy as they were both inexperienced, but just the feeling of Makoto's lips moving keenly against his own, of Makoto's muscular frame lined up with his own, it was enough to make Haruka feel as if together, they were more beautiful than any night sky the world had ever seen.

The kiss grew bolder, more curious and hungry, and each touch elicited noises that fed the other's eagerness. Haruka let the kiss fade by itself, only pulling away from Makoto once their lips parted naturally. The taller boy looked at him with eyes half-lidded and mouth ajar, and if Haruka didn't know better, he'd think Makoto was either newly woken or drunk.

Makoto leaned in to kiss and nip at the skin of Haruka's throat, loving the taste of his creamy pale skin, the movement of Haruka swallowing with Makoto's mouth on his Adam's apple, and the warmth as Haruka rested his head on Makoto's shoulder. A small whine escaped him as Makoto bit down on a collarbone, and Makoto thought that he might have just found his favourite sound in the universe.

“Makoto,” Haruka got out in between laboured breaths and trying to restrain his noises of pleasure, “ _kiss me_ , kiss me more...”

Makoto complied, leaving his neck and allowing deep purples and dull reds to surface in bruises that starkly contrasted Haruka's light skin. He captured the other's lips with his own, spilling soft moans and sighs against them. Makoto bit down softly on Haruka's bottom lip, sucking experimentally, and the latter's throat released a shaky little groan and his hips dipped forward by themselves in a jerky motion. Makoto froze for a moment, a sharp, surprised intake of air making Haruka want to do it again. So he did, and this time, Makoto slid down against their makeshift backrest and breathed out Haruka's name from deep in his throat. Soon they were lying down, and Haruka rutted at an impossibly slow pace, feeling more and more as if he'd explode if he allowed himself to stop.

“Haru, _Haru_ ,” Haruka's name fell against his own lips over and over again, “don't... d-don't, ah...” Makoto stuttered out, enough embarrassment left in his bones to make him feel as if they were doing something impossibly wrong. He couldn't find reason for that notion, however, and settled for calling the other boy's name a few more times, as Haruka moved against him and alternated between sucking and kissing at his lips. Makoto fisted his hands in the back of Haruka's shirt, wanting him closer, _closer_ , despite there barely being room for air between their bodies.

As Haruka's movements grew more uncoordinated and twitchy, he hid his face in the crook of Makoto's neck and let his obscenely honest voice fill the space there, muffled by Makoto's shirt. The brunet sucked in another breath and tensed beneath him, turning his head to nuzzle his face in Haruka's hair once he relaxed again. Haruka reached his peak a moment later, trembling against his best friend's body.

Their shaky breaths filled the sudden void of voices for a while, before Haruka nudged his nose against Makoto's collarbone and spoke quietly, “Congratulations on your car.”

Makoto laughed, “Oh my _God_ , Haru..”

“I got you a gift.”

“This wasn't enough, you mean?”

Haruka laughed as well, and somehow, the shameless simplicity of it the two of them together like this was more ideal than any back seat fantasy Haruka could imagine.

He vaguely remembered leaving his bag on the ground beside the vehicle, and sat up to retrieve it. Makoto shuddered at the lack of warmth as Haruka's body parted from his, and pulled two blankets up over himself. He watched his friend rummage through the bag for a while before pulling out a tiny box nicely wrapped in glossy silver paper, and an olive green ribbon tied around it.

“Haru,” he sat up as well, lifting the blankets so that Haruka could crawl in beside him, “you didn't have to get me anything.”

“I know, but—”

“ _'I wanted to',_ right?”

Haruka pouted and Makoto laughed lightly, taking the present in his hands and dropping a soft peck at the boy's pushed-out bottom lip. He started tearing the wrapping off, careful at first (as per usual; Haruka's presents were always so neatly wrapped, he didn't want to ruin it) before Haruka's silent stare nagged at him to not care whether the paper tore or not. Within was a square carton box. Makoto shook it gently, but there wasn't much rattling coming from it. Interest piqued, he picked the lid off and found that the object inside wasn't moving around due to bubble wrap securely confining it at the bottom of the little box. Makoto glanced up at his friend briefly, before removing the bubble wrap, revealing a keychain with a blue plastic dolphin attached to it; much alike the one Makoto had let Haruka have when they had just joined the Iwatobi Swim Club.

“I... I couldn't really find anything that suited the occasion,” Haruka explained reluctantly, “so I went into the toy store down by train station thinking maybe they had some toy cars or something,”

Makoto laughed heartily, lump in his throat.

“You know, like, a gag gift,” Haruka dragged a finger smoothly across the azure of the dolphin, “but then I saw they had the exact key chains that Coach Sasabe offered us back then, so I guess that's where the swim club got them from.”

“Haru, this is...”

“Not much, but I know you're big on sentimentality.”

Makoto snivelled quietly, lifting the dolphin from the box to have a closer look, heart swelling impossibly as Haruka lay his head on the other's shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered, “for this little piece of nostalgia,” Makoto could feel Haruka's body jerk as the boy let out a quick laugh, “for... you.”

Haruka took Makoto's hand, intertwining their fingers. Perhaps it was really just the echo of his own steady pulse, but he swore he could feel their hearts beating in sync for a moment. He closed his eyes, fatigue finally catching up with him. It was late, and they probably should have gone inside to get cleaned up soon. Haruka looked up at the jet-black sky towering above them, thousands of stars glinting like fireflies. He felt the blood run cold in his veins at the sudden thought that this could all be nothing but a dream; God knows he'd had plenty of dreams about him and Makoto like this before. With his free hand, he pinched the one holding onto Makoto's beneath the blankets, but stayed put, apparently fully conscious, by Makoto's side.

Haruka tilted his head, placing a chaste kiss on his friend's shoulder. “It’s still nothing,” he mumbled, bashful under the attention of the night sky, “I’d give you the stars if I could.”

His voice was hushed and his cheeks a warm scarlet, the high of wanton and happiness quickly drowning in his own embarrassment, but Makoto heard him nonetheless. Makoto turned his head, trying to catch Haruka’s eye, but the boy still rested his forehead against Makoto’s shoulder, expression shielded from view. Makoto looked up again, a light breeze sweeping tenderly over his burning cheeks. He thought of all the memories he treasured so, all the tomorrows that lay ahead of them, and he thanked the universe for how generously it had treated him.

“That’s okay,” he squeezed Haruka’s hand a little tighter, “Somehow, I feel like you already have.”

**Author's Note:**

> lots of thanks to shinx and liz who always help me out with my literary trainwrecks.  
> also if you haven't listened to Melody Gardot's 'If The Stars Were Mine' yet you really need to because it is _such_ a makoharu song.


End file.
